


Graduated

by kscribbles



Category: Fright Night (2011)
Genre: First Kiss, Hand Jobs, Kissing, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-24
Updated: 2012-03-24
Packaged: 2017-11-02 11:16:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/368393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kscribbles/pseuds/kscribbles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: Peter/Charley - Graduation. I've both read and written prompt fills which mention a large, extravagant graduation party thrown for Charley by Peter, but let's see it. Specifically, I'd love it if some ridiculous teenage drinking game (which Peter of course participates in) leads to Peter and Charley making out (and more?) for the first time while all of Charley's Cool Friends party it up unaware just in the next room.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Graduated

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the lj community FrightNight2011's kinkmeme: http://frightnight2011.livejournal.com/718.html

“All right, you two,” Peter said to his two favorite teenagers, who were bubbling over with happiness and that accomplished excitement that comes from having the whole world in front of them, but no immediate responsibilities, apart from having fun. It suited them much better than worrying for their lives had. “Have a great graduation do.”

“Thank you for everything, Peter. You sure you can't stay?” Amy asked, with that cute little pleading expression that, with some refinement, would have men falling at her feet one day. But she wasn't just being coy or polite, she meant it—they wanted him there. That warmed him more than he cared to admit, but he _did_ have responsibilities.

“And hang out with a bunch of teenagers?” He did sort of want to, but pretended to scoff, nonetheless. “No thanks. I have to do the show tonight.”

“But you went to all this trouble,” Charley pointed out. “I mean... ice sculptures? A DJ?” The bloke with the headphones half on in the corner gave a wave. “Besides, what's your understudy for?”

“Not for fucking off and going to parties. And he's terrible anyway. Everyone can see right through his illusions and, more importantly, he doesn't look a thing like me.”

"Well, we owe you," Charley said.

They didn’t. Not a thing, ever. “Damn right, you do,” Peter said. “I'm sure you'll think of something.” He grinned more than a little lasciviously. “Right. So, drink anything you like, apart from the Midori. Keep your little friends OUT of my bedroom and AWAY from the display cases. Got it?”

“Yes sir,” Amy said. Charley saluted him.

“And make sure they eat all that sushi I had brought up. I don't want to come home to that having sat out for hours.”

“You'll be back after the show?” Charley confirmed.

“Yeah. I do live here. It will be late after, though, plenty of time for your youthful debauchery. I believe I may have... an appointment with the new showgirl, in my dressing room.”

The kids shot him a pair of indulgent looks.

“Okay,” he said, grabbing his leather trench. “I'm off downstairs. Have fun. Amy, I must say…” he eyed her, his gaze lingering on her slight curves in her dainty dress, before he slid a hand into her hair and kissed her on the cheek. “…You're looking good enough to eat tonight.”

“Watch it,” Charley warned.

“Oh okay, you look delicious as well, Charley.” He smacked a kiss loudly on Charley’s forehead and gave him a thorough perusal as well. “Loving the new trainers. Periwinkle?”

“Just sky blue,” Charley answered, rubbing at his forehead. “Dick.”

\- - -

Peter wasn’t checking up on them, he told himself. He wasn’t spying. He just wanted to make sure they were having a good time. So during intermission, while an assistant buzzed annoyingly about him fixing his makeup and adjusting his costume, he lit a cigarette and switched on a monitor in his dressing room that showed views from the security cameras in his flat above.

There looked to be about 50 kids up there, dancing, drinking, smoking (he’d given Charley and Amy all of Ginger’s old crappy weed to get rid of for him, he didn’t care for the cheap stuff), eating the gourmet fare Peter had ordered for them. Including that vile sushi. He flipped through a few views before he spotted Charley. The kid was sitting on the bar, perched a little above the festivities, a drink beside him, and a small satisfied smile on his face. Amy came up to him and stood by him, leaning her head against his knee. She looked well-inebriated already. Charley pet her head affectionately and said something to her that made him smile wider.

Peter smiled himself and switched off the monitor.

\- - -

It was, as he’d promised, quite late by the time he made his way upstairs. His evening with the showgirl had gone well. Drinks, fucking, food, some more fucking (she was quite intent on pleasing him… he hadn’t had the heart to tell her that he fucked most of his showgirls, and it wasn’t really going to increase her chances of advancement through the hierarchy), some more drinks, and then he’d finally sent her off home. It was closer now to morning than to night, and he hadn’t even had to check the security cameras to know the party would be dying down. It would be safe for him to crash it now.

The sculptures were half melted, the DJ had packed up a while before, and most of the kids had packed it in as well by the time Peter stepped out of the lift into the flat. There were less than ten of them now, sat on the floor or slumped in chairs, drunk and tired and happy. He stood back and watched them unobserved for a while. They were playing a drinking game apparently called “I’ve never,” wherein one person declares something they’ve never had the opportunity to do—something sexual, or adventurous, or sexually adventurous—and if any of the rest of them _have_ done said deed, they’re to take a drink.

These kids, the inner circle or close to it, Peter guessed, knew about what had gone down with Jerry. Or a version of events, anyway. Knew that vampires existed, that Mark, and Charley and Amy had been involved, and that was how they knew Peter. He wondered if the “I’ve never been (or staked) a vampire” statement had come up yet. Or if this evening was all about more innocent pursuits. An evening to forget the darkness they’d been through and to focus on the bright, shiny, monster-free future. Peter suddenly acutely missed the feeling of a drink in his hand, so he announced his presence.

He was welcomed warmly as he got a beverage and sat himself down on the floor next to Amy. Charley, next to her, met his eyes and smiled, happy to see him. Though the rest of the graduates all looked at him a little expectantly, as if wondering if they should stop their game with an “adult” in the room.

“It’s just Peter, you guys,” Amy pointed out.

“Right, it’s just me. Carry on. I’ll even play. Though I daresay I’ve done plenty that you lot haven’t. Least I bloody well hope so. You with the… hair…” Peter pointed to a kid whose name he didn’t know. “It was your turn, I believe.”

The kid shrugged. “Um. I've never...” No-name gave Mark a pointed look. “…Kissed a dude.”

The ladies present groaned and took gulps of their beverages. Mark, who seemed well-past two sheets to the wind slurred, “Wait, does it count if you were a vampire at the time?”

A chorus of voices: _Yes_.

“Aww, man…” Mark tipped his glass towards his mouth.

Peter took a swig from his own drink, which earned him a few curious glances, but no one said anything to him. Maybe it was time to make this a little more interesting, Peter thought. He was just drunk enough to push some boundaries, and If ever there were a night he could get away with this, it would be tonight.

“Hang on,” Peter said. “Charley, I think you need to take a drink.”

“What? No I don't. That one time was all y—”

Peter set down his drink with a thud, crawled over Amy, grabbed Charley by his nice plaid shirt and snogged him for all he was worth. He heard a gasp or two, someone saying “What the—?” but he didn’t pay them any mind. Because after a moment of surprised protest, Charley was kissing him _back_ and he was drowning in the taste. Soft lips, and just a hint of tongue, the taste of drink, of relief, release. He’d been waiting for this since the kid first snuck into his theatre. Now it appeared maybe, just maybe, Charley had been waiting for this too. Peter forced himself to keep it brief, and pulled back after just a few seconds. Charley, bless him, in front of all these teenagers, groaned in disappointment.

He shook it off quickly. “What...?” Charley choked out, before clearing his throat. “What the hell, dude?”

Peter shrugged and sat back down. “You looked entirely too sober.” He looked at Amy, then, suddenly remembering her presence. “Sorry, love.”

“Hey,” she said, holding up her hands. “It’s cool. That was hot.” She giggled and took another gulp of her drink, even though no more _I’ve nevers_ had passed. Her laughing cut the silence that had fallen between the others and then the commotion of a bunch of drunk kids started up again.

He caught Charley’s eye again and winked. Charley, dutifully, took a drink.

\- - -

45 minutes later, Peter bid the young ‘uns goodnight. “I've got an early meeting. So that’s me off,” he said, swaying a little as he stood. The meeting was at 2pm, but as the sun was due up over the mountains at any moment, that was definitely early. “Keep it down. Fuck off out of here by like... noon. Erm… Wear condoms. Eat your vegetables. Oh! And happy graduation! Night kiddies.”

“Dude,” he heard someone whisper as he sauntered to his bedroom. “He is so _weird_.”

“Yeah, weird and _awesome_ ,” another, a girl, said. He thought it might be the pretty brunette. Butterfly? Bee? “You’re so lucky, Charley.”

Peter smiled to himself again.

He’d barely kicked off his shoes and taken off his rings when there was a soft rap at his door.

“Yeah?”

“It’s me.” It was Charley’s voice, trying not to be very loud.

“Well come in if you’re coming.”

Charley pushed open the door, closed it, and stood against it. “Hey,” he said.

Peter looked at him curiously. “I did just see you two and half minutes ago…”

“Right,” Charley said. “Yeah, I know. I just… you know. Wanted to come in here to say… Thanks. For this party. It was great.”

“You’ve already thanked me, Charley, and I’ve already told you you don’t have to.”

“No,” Charley pointed out. “Amy thanked you. And _you_ said we owe you.” Charley said it with a smile, was only teasing, but Peter wanted—needed—to be serious for a second.

“I didn’t mean it, and you know it. I can never be out of your debt, Charley.” And then quietly, Peter added, “I don’t ever want to be.”

There was a moment then, a current of emotion, some indefinable understanding between the two of them. And like blokes do when they find themselves in an emotional moment, Peter shattered it. “So… fuck off! I need sleep.”

“Yeah, yeah. Of course, I’m going. Sorry.” Charley didn’t move.

“Was there something else?” Peter only half-pretended to be annoyed. He really was very tired.

Charley cleared his throat and looked down. “You’re… uh…” the kid mumbled, “… a really good kisser.”

Peter raised a curious eyebrow, and suddenly wasn’t _quite_ so tired. “So I’ve been told,” he said, trying not to laugh with delight. “Anything… _else_?” Cautiously, Peter took a step toward his friend.

“Nope. Thanks for the awesome party, you’re a great kisser. That about covers it.” Charley rocked back on his heels, and met Peter’s eyes again.

“And yet,” Peter drawled, “you’re still in my bedroom.” He stepped closer still.

“And yet.” Charley confirmed.

Another moment passed between the two of them, less emotional, but no less _charged_ , and then they were moving at the same time, closing the distance between them and locking lips again. Peter steered Charley’s back against the door again, needing something solid behind them as he plundered Charley’s mouth properly this time. No audience, and no hesitation on either of their parts; Peter drove his tongue in to taste and was met with equal fervor. Charley groaned beneath him, didn’t know what to do with his hands. They grabbed for Peter’s shoulders, his hips, his hair, any part they could touch. Finally he let go completely and Peter pulled away briefly to see Charley was holding them against the door, by his sides.

Charley’s eyes were still tightly shut, and as Peter dragged his lips across his friend’s neck, Charley leaned his head back against the door with a thud. “Fuck _me_ ,” Charley whispered.

It was just an expression, not a request, Peter knew, but he couldn’t resist teasing. He pulled his lips away. “Do you want me to?”

Charley’s eyes snapped wide open. “I didn’t mean—”

“Don’t worry, kid, I’ve indulged too much tonight for that anyway.”

Charley nodded. “More this,” he demanded, grabbing Peter’s face and pulling his lips back to his.

“Anything…” Peter said again, between fiery kisses, “… _else_?” He let his hand slide to Charley’s waistband, one finger stroking lower, finding Charley delightfully hard.

“ _Please_ ,” Charley nodded, then groaned, then drove his tongue back into Peter’s mouth.

It was all the encouragement Peter needed. Deftly he unbuttoned and unzipped and reached inside Charley’s pants, wrapping his hand around what felt like an impressive cock. Charley whimpered into his mouth as Peter pulled him out into the air between them and stroked, tight and a little rough.

Charley’s hips gave little jerks as Peter quickly set up a determined rhythm. He wanted Charley to come hard and fast, and _spectacularly_ —a graduation gift he’d remember. Peter contemplated dropping to his knees, getting a proper look at—and taste of—Charley, but Charley didn’t want to relinquish his mouth. He should have known Charley would be a snogger. Not that Peter really minded. There’d be, he guessed, other times. Now, he employed every trick he knew, every flick of the wrist, every twist of the fingers just so to make this amazing for Charley. And it was the work of seconds, not more than a minute or two, surely, before Charley was wrenching his mouth away.

“Peter!” Charley gasped.

“Oh say that again,” Peter murmured, tightening his hand, feeling Charley get even harder beneath his fingers.

“Peter, I’m—”

“Go for it,” Peter commanded.

He watched as Charley’s eyes screwed shut again, his kiss-swollen lips pressed themselves into a thin line, and he came onto Peter’s trousers, hot pulses he could feel even through the leather. Peter stroked him through it, making it last, carefully drawing out every last drop.

When he felt Charley’s body finally relax, when Charley’s cock began to soften in his hand, Peter whipped off his own shirt, cleaned Charley up and tucked him back in his trousers. Finally, he stepped away and looked back at his friend’s face. Charley was flushed and _gorgeous_ and on any other night, Peter would be determined to make this look happen all over again as soon as possible.

Experimentally, Charley cracked open one eye.

“You all right, kid?” Peter asked, suddenly wondering if this all wasn’t a little much for his young friend.

“Yes?” Charley croaked. “Yes. Definitely,” he said opening his other eye and ruffling his hair. “That was…. um… You’re really good at that too.”

“So I’ve been told,” Peter said again, smirking. “Now go on, your party’s still out there.”

Charley’s eyes widened again, like he just remembered there were people right outside. “Shit,” he said. He made himself as presentable as he could. “Do I look like I’ve—?”

“Like you’ve _graduated_?” Peter rolled the word around his mouth lewdly. “Yeah, a little. But don’t worry, they’re all too drunk to notice.”

 

FIN


End file.
